0. The Fool: The freshman. He’s fascinated by the fact he just entered college, plans on joining every club imaginable, and thinks he can handle 8AM classes. Still wears his lanyard around his neck.
I. The Magician:The one who actually has all their shit together, lives off of campus and works a real-person job. Probably works out too. You want to not like them for it but they’re too nice.
II. The High Priestess: She’s kinda quiet and reserved, but if you talk to her she’s really smart and knows a lot of fun random facts. The sweet one that unexpectedly knows a lot of fucked up shit and freaks your friends out at a party for a few minutes that one time.
III. The Empress: She’s a junior when you get to college, but she likes you a lot and shows you around. She’s a big help and tells you about local deals on food. Buys you alcohol for the party but then makes sure you stay safe when you’re drunk. Very attractive, probably gay.
IV. The Emperor: This guy is probably older than you, and tends to give really good advice when you have drama. Sometimes his male privilege goes really unchecked but he’s willing to learn and know better. Designated driver.
V. The Hierophant: Absolutely can’t cope with the fact that underage drinking is a real thing. Straight A’s, probably on some Student Government board or faculty-built club that encourages good student conduct. Kinda snobby so you don’t talk to them much, but their help in Physics class was the only reason you passed.
VI. The Lovers: You’ve never known these people to not be dating. They’re basically already married and you’re basically their first child. When The Fool comes around you get upgraded to Aunt or Uncle or something. They give good relationship advice.
VII. The Chariot: He’s friends with all the right people, gets away with outrageous antics and never gets in trouble. Always has tickets to that concert you want. Cocky with a heart of gold. Smooth af. Probably tries to ask you on a date.
VIII. Strength: Deals with way more shit than you do. Holds your arm so you don’t rip somebody’s neck out when that person tries to pick a fight. Says they’ll “deal with” the creeper who’s been stalking you. You have no idea what she said to them, but they never approach you again.
IX. The Hermit: The friend that everyone likes, wise beyond their years. Every time you invite them to hang out, they’re busy with homework or something else comes up, even though they’re legitimately not trying to avoid you. Meditates daily. Forgets about that huge campus event you go to every year.
X. The Wheel of Fortune: You meet in a class and hit it off really well. You guys are close for a while, and you learn some life lessons and gain some new interests or viewpoints. The new semester rolls around and they basically fall off the face of the map.
XI. Justice: The friend who almost got alcohol poisoning once and completely changed their life afterwards. They’re much more stable now and seem a lot happier. They invite you to a bonfire at some point.
XII. The Hanged Man: He’s kind of a weird guy, but in a way that you still like hanging out with him. Has drastically different views about the world than the rest of your friends, which leads to a lot of really in-depth, interesting discussions. You emerge from that friendship a lot smarter.
XIII. Death: The one that finally managed to convince you to drop that club, break up with that person, or quit that destructive habit. Their solution for everything seems to be hard cut offs, you’re both impressed and intimidated by it.
XIV. Temperance:The student tutor you finally go to in an hour of need. They manage to completely salvage your paper from the brink of despair in under an hour. You feel like you have been touched by an angel.
XV. The Devil:Invites you to his birthday party, which is by far the trashiest situation you ever experience. Meanwhile, he gets tanked, calls somebody a string of offensive slurs, then does a line of cocaine. You don’t speak anymore.
XVI. The Tower: They seem cool and all, you talk now and then but are still getting to know them. Then, you hear them say something INCREDIBLY problematic or hear down the grape vine about their old sexual assault charges. You can’t look at them the same way anymore and now just thinking about how you used to hang out leaves a bad taste in your mouth.
XVII. The Star: That faculty member you LOVE. She helps you build your schedule, helps you fix your grade in the class, and reminds you that some people aren’t so bad after all.
XVIII. The Moon: Things are pretty good. You have a solid relationship going with somebody, then this asshole shows up and now you have to rethink everything about your current relationship and if they’re really worth dumping someone over. You agonize over it, not knowing what you want, until it just kinda awkwardly blows over and you figure out they aren’t into your gender anyway.
XIX. The Sun: This person is the one always sharing mildly-political information on Facebook. Before you know it, you’re freshly passionate about the causes you care for the most, and still educated on the ones you don’t put as much energy into. You cared about these things before, but they’re the person that armed you with the knowledge you needed to actually have constructive dialogue about it.
XX. Judgement: Best friends with Justice, and is remodeling her entire life. You don’t hang out with her often so the next time you see her she has a new hobby, new major, new hairstyle, and has probably stopped talking to certain members of her family. It was tough but she seems better for it.
XXI. The World: Your person. They stick with you from year one to when you graduate. You complement each other really well. You still make healthy time for other people but they’re still your best friend. Eventually when you get older they’ll have a kid and name it after you probably.
ALL the progressive/left wing parties are really, really flawed.
Labour: Jeremy “Oh Where Do We Even Start” Corbyn. Useless on Brexit. Has thrown immigrants under the bus for the sake of chasing the WWC, who are not biting. Never misses an opportunity to miss an opportunity. Party as a whole still carrieslegacy of Blair, Iraq.
LibDems: Tuition fees. Enabling Tories. I’ve come to see this as more complex than I used to - in retrospect I think they DID, in coalition, worst impulses to a degree and sucked at taking credit for their victories, as God knows the Tories have been even more awful since, but there were opportunities to walk out, bring down Cameron’s government before it enacted our current miseries, and they did not take them.
Greens: Just unprofessional to the point where I keep expecting them to fall over and roll around with their legs in the air. Made a hash of Brighton. At one point decided the worst threat to civilisation was artists and writers getting to profit from their work.
I’ve shifted interest from one to the other and all of them have royally pissed me off.
NONE OF THEM deserves your loyalty in the sense of sticking with them to make a point about the unpalatability of any of the others.
ALL OF THEM are better than the Conservatives. Yes, they are. Yes, even that one.
What is the point if they’re just watered down Tories?
Well, the point is that they’re not.
Labour: Wants a £10 minimum wage, universal free meals for primary schools, renationalised railways and to integrate NHS and social care.
LibDems: Trying to save us from Brexit. Much more money for the NHS. Support the introduction of legalised, regulated cannabis and treating drug addiction as a medical issue rather than a criminal one overall. Would give 16-year-olds the vote.
Greens: Want a universal Citizen’s Income. Robin Hood tax on banks. Would repeal the Health and Social Care act of 2012 which basically opened the privatisation floodgates. Also, you know, to save the world.
I once thought the distinction between the Tories and an exasperating opposition wasn’t meaningful. I don’t any more. Don’t like that the Lib Dems broke promises? Well, May promised no snap election, just for starters. Don’t like Labour’s bellicosity? The Tories were there for all of it. Aghast at the Greens’ bungling? Iain Duncan Smith exists. Does that mean “they’re all the same”? No, it means the Conservatives combine the flaws of all of them and the virtues of none of them.
That’s the Tories killing off good policies Labour had put in place, or doing awful things opposed by Labour and the Lib-Dems/Greens, and or thwarting efforts Labour/the LibDems/the Greens were making to rescue children. Those green policies, that NHS funding, those refugee children would be safe right now if the Tories were not in power.
Would Labour/the LibDems/The Greens get to enact all their best ideas and avoid all their worst tendencies? Of course not. Will they do or be what you most want in a government? No. Are you right to be furious with any or all of them? Definitely.
Are you old enough to remember the 80s-to-late-90s when huge numbers of homeless people were sleeping rough all over London? And then in the late 90s through the 00s, how they weren’t? It’s true. Have you seen how they’ve come back, how positive change has been deliberately reversed? I can remember when mass rough-sleeping seemed like the bad old days that would never return. They did not have to.
Do you remember Sure Start? More than 350 Sure Start centres have closed since 2010.
Do you remember when satisfaction with the NHS was at a record high? It wasn’t long ago. It was in 2010, when Labour left office. Satisfaction plummeted during the following year. Now, seven years later it’s on the brink of collapse.
Because none of the left-wing opposition parties are that great it is not worth allowing the differences between them to be points of division. And while we remember their mistakes and even their crimes we must remember what they did right. While we point out their ongoing flaws we must continue to see the opportunities they offer to reverse our slide into a cruelty, ignorance and unnecessary deprivation. Not to do so means more people will literally die. They will die on the sea trying to reach safety or under bombs they cannot escape; they will die waiting for medication or operations that would easily save them; they will die by suicide when they can no longer endure the poverty they have been forced into. They will die of cold and exposure on the streets.
I was in Hastings the other day. I met an old friend of mine. He’s a longterm alcoholic. He’s never going to be employable. He’s just lost his flat and was back to sleeping on the street after having a roof over his head for five years. There was a rattle in his breath that really scared me. He hadn’t had electricty or heating for years. He’s fifty-one, and looks at least ten years older. I think he’ll be dead in a year or so. His MP is the Home Secretary Amber Rudd.
Treat Labour/LibDems/TheGreens as a single opposition. Viewed that way they’re at least adequate. Even if the fuckers can’t get it together to form an alliance. Vote for whoever has the best chance of ousting a Tory.
Being friends with Roman had its down side. All the girls
that liked Roman would shun you, leaving you out when it came to parties or
shopping sprees. This weekend was no different, Roman had been invited to
several parties while you’d been invited to non, he’d be going to the loudest
and biggest party on the list.
You were sat in bed with a bowl of popcorn while you watched
movies on your tv. Your attention was drawn away from the TV when you noticed
Roman watching you from the doorway of your room.
“Hey Roman, what’re you doing here?” You asked quietly.
“It wasn’t fun without you.” He slurred. He climbed into
your bed and flopped his head into your lap as he closed his eyes, your fingers
stroking into his hair, letting his arms wrap his arms around your legs.
He must have slept for hours because when he finally woke up
you’d become so used to having him asleep on your lap you jumped. He groaned
and slid his hands up and down your thighs as you flipped through the tv
channels to find a new film.
A/N : First ever smut!! This took me a good few sessions to write and also Harry’s legs make me weak.
Word Count : 3500+
Summary : Y/N spends the morning doing what she loves most, making brownies and riding Harry’s thigh.
* * *
Leaning against the kitchen counter, a cup of tea laced between my fingers, I watch Harry with a fond smile as he grips a bag of self-rising flour in one hand, and a regular bag of flour in the other. Even though half his body is turned, I can see the small frown of his lips as the corners of his mouth sink deeper and the confused expression across his face tightens.
“Y/N,” He begins, turning his body to face me and I can’t help but bite my lips to stop a chuckle from escaping them as I stare at what he’s wearing. A pink satin pyjama tank top is wrapped across his chest, his nipples evidently straining to break free from the suffocating material. The unmistakeable sound of clothes ripping silences Harry who is halfway through asking which flour he is supposed to use, and he sends me a bashful grimace as he prepares himself to be scolded at knowing he’s ruined my favourite pyjama top. To be honest, if it wasn’t for how cute Harry looked at the moment I would’ve whined but Harry is too adorable to chew out so I just shake my head instead.
“Sorry babe…” Harry starts, “I’ll buy yeh another one but a size or two up so a can wear it too.”
I raise an amused eyebrow questioningly.
“What?” Harry asks defensively, “The silk is comfortable and soft around my torso and yeh wear my shirts all the time!”
At that he gestures accusingly to my body and I glance down to see my attire. A long silk shirt hangs from the frames of my shoulders, vibrant colours and swirls lace a pattern across the predominantly black background and I tug at the rolled up sleeves so the material falls and pools around my wrists.
“I wear your shirts because I look hotter in them.” I tease, reaching down to pop open another button. Harry swallows roughly, eagerly agreeing as his eyes don’t tear from my fingers which softly toy with the button. Unlucky for Harry, my plans for this lazy Sunday morning consist of baking, only baking… for now.
“But you just look like a drag queen in mine.” Harry’s eyes snap up, any sexual aura in the room now evaporated, and he greets my teasing grin with an equally challenging glint in his eyes.
“At least a look fabulous in this top, darlin’,” Harry says, loosening his wrists and consequently spilling a little flour. “Yeh couldn’t pull this tank off even if the colour did suit yeh.”
Harry jumps and raises his arms in a victory hoot at the ‘sick burn’ and the straps of the top completely tear apart. I break into fit of giggles at his guilty expression and soon enough Harry too gives a small chuckle before apologising profusely.
“Sorry sugar.” He says before pulling the tank top off completely; leaving him standing in the kitchen with only a pair of tight boxer briefs adorning his legs.
“S'okay love.” I sigh, but Harry shoots me a very cheeky grin and shakes his head.
“No, Y/N. A was apologising to the sugar.”
Heat rushes to my cheeks and a wave of embarrassment washes over me as I realise Harry knocked over a bag of sugar when he lifted his arms victoriously. Using a hand to cover my face, I groan, frustrated that I fell for such an obvious trap and Harry giggles as he scoops the sugar back into its bag. With his back turned to me, I dare glance through the gaps in between my fingers and I rake my eyes over Harry’s bare back as it ripples and tenses. I can’t help but stare, he’s gorgeous. Though his body is not particularly muscly, it is toned and touring abroad has done wonders for his skin; leaving him deliciously tanned, almost like a caramel apple.
I sit back abruptly as Harry finishes cleaning up, determined not to give him the satisfaction that I was staring but the quirk of his lips reveal he knows I was ogling him and he winks irritatingly.
“Seriously babe?” He asks, “If yeh done harassing me with yeh eyes, a’d like to know which flour I’m su'posed to use to make these goddamn brownies.”
Fighting back an eyeroll, I stand up from my stool and join him beside the bowl with ingredients.
“I don’t know…” I reply, eyes fliting between the packet of normal flour and the packet of self-rising flour. “I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to use self-rising flower for baking.”
“Even for brownies?”
I shrug and Harry must reckon that’s a good enough answer as he drops the bag of normal flour before eyeing the self-rising flour and pouring about half the bag in. As he cracks a couple of eggs and adds some butter, I realise we probably should’ve invested in a set of scales because brownie mixture is not supposed to look so powdery. Also, aren’t you supposed to use coco powder? Harry and I used hot chocolate powder as a substitute but that in itself poses an issue because the tub said it’s use by date expired four months ago.
Guess we’ll just have to wait and see.
After we add some water to bring the mixture together, Harry takes the role of cleaning up the kitchen while I spoon the mixture into a baking tray (of course, making sure to leave a tiny bit of brownie mixture for myself and Harry to lick while we wait for the brownies to bake). Just as I draw away from the oven after placing our soon-to-be brownies in the oven, Harry’s strong arms wrap around my middle and he pulls me close into his chest. He buries his face into the crook of my neck and snuggles close, dipping the tip of his freezing nose right into the warm pool of my skin and I elicit a small yelp.
“You’re freezing, Haz!” I squeal, touching the spot he just nuzzled. “You need to put something on.”
Harry cocks his head to the side. “Put somethin’ on?” He toys, taking a step closer to which I take a step back until he traps me between his arms against the kitchen island.
“A’d like to wear this sunshine,” He tells me, amusement clear in his voice as he fiddles with the hem of the shirt between his thumb and forefinger. “Can a have my shirt back baby?”
His lips are dangerously close and with such a short distance between us, I struggle to think straight. Reciprocating his sultry change of mood, I slide one of my hands into his dry hair and place the other dangerously close to a carton of nearby eggs. Harry swallows harshly and his eyes flutter closed as I pull him closer and latch my teeth onto the lobe of his ear. I nibble gently and soothe the skin over with the flat of my tongue before tugging on his hair roughly to expose his neck.
“Harry, Harry, Harry, Harry, Harry…” I daunt, placing wet kisses down his neck softly. Suddenly, Harry juts his hips into mine and I bite my lips to stop a shaky breath. An overwhelming desire to properly kiss him floods my body, and I almost give into my primal instincts but when Harry tugs on the hem of my shirt I’m reminded of my mission.
“You’ll have to kill me for this shirt.” I whisper before quickly grabbing an egg from the carton, circling my arm up and around, and smacking the shell right down on top of his skull.
Not waiting for his response, I shove him back and run to the other side of the island. Harry, completely shocked, whips around sending egg yolk flying everywhere and I slap a hand to cover my mouth as I begin snorting at the sight of my furious, shirtless but most importantly egg-soaked boyfriend.
“"Oh Y/N… Y/N, Y/N, Y/N.” Harry taunts, mocking me similar to how I did before. He places a hand on the bag of self-rising flour and runs his other through his dripping hair. “Yeh should not have done that.”
In seconds, whatever remaining flour we had left is thrown right at me and I’m left coughing and spitting out flour as Harry creases in the corner while I mentally scold myself for being such an idiot and leaving my mouth agape.
“You suck.” I grunt, after spitting out the remains of clumpy flour and Harry’s grin grows wider if that’s even possible.
“And yeh swallow, my dear.” He winks before lunging for me. Harry’s long fingers find my sides instantly and he tickles me ruthlessly, taking every opportunity he has to blow raspberries into the crook of my neck. I squeal and slap his forearm but Harry only laughs, places a soft kiss on my shoulder, and slides his fingers up my body as he slowly peels his shirt off my body, leaving me completely bare besides the pair of cotton knickers hugging my bum. Harry shoots me a triumphant toothy smile as he pulls the shirt over his head and pushes his arms through the powdery sleeves; I, in contrast, pout and Harry ceases the chance to lightly trace my bottom lip with his forefinger. I don’t even think about when I automatically drop my lower lip further and gently suck on the tip of Harry’s finger.
The mood of the room flips dramatically.
Suddenly, I’m all too aware of Harry’s other hand caressing my hip and how his hooded eyes don’t even glance away from my lips that pucker around his finger. His eyes flutter closed as he gently pumps it into my wet mouth and I hum softly while reaching my hands up and running them through his sodden locks. The cold metal of his rings send waves of shock through my body, causing me to shiver as my body begins to shake at the temperature change.
“Are y- are yeh cold, love?” Harry stutters, pulling his glistening finger from my mouth - a string of saliva following. My eyes snap open and I nod quickly, letting a small whiny ‘yes’ slip past my lips.
“Maybe we should do somethin’ to warm yeh up then love? A don’t want yeh getting a cold…” Harry winks and he pushes himself up onto the kitchen island so that his bum and thighs rest on the surface but the rest of his legs dangle down. With a playful glint in his eyes, Harry pats his bare thigh invitingly and offers me an outstretched arm as he pulls me up on top of him.
Taking his hand, I climb up. My breasts swing as I move and my lack of clothing gives Harry easy access as he dips his head forward to suck and bite and leave marks all over them. He takes his time to treasure my body, nibbling lightly on my left nipple and rubbing the other; Harry uses his large, masculine hands to cusp and knead the rest of my breast and I automatically arch my back to give him more area.
Eventually he pulls away and Harry looks up at me through his darkened gaze. In a split second, I grab the sides of his face tightly in my hands and slam my lips onto his. A low, deep growl erupts from Harry’s throat and he drops his fingers to my thighs. Gripping them firmly, Harry groans into the lustful kiss and pulls me closer, determined to eliminate any space between us. My hands fly to his biceps for leverage as he hauls me up his thighs, my fingertips gripping his arms so tightly that little crescent moons are left in my wake.
“Ride my thigh, baby.” Harry pants, his damp breath fanning over my lips hotly. The lust in his eyes send waves of shivers through my body and the hairs on my arms stand up as goose bumps texturise my skin. “Ride me.”
His hands part my thighs and I happily oblige, following his movements and removing my panties as he plants his hands on my hips to steady me. From this height, I have to duck my head so that it doesn’t smack against the ceiling and the position is not all that comfortable but in seconds Harry has me back down into the comfort of his arms.
“Ride me baby, ride your daddy.”
I don’t need to be told twice.
Lowering myself onto Harry’s thigh, I grind lazily against the soft cotton of his boxer briefs. My lips part in a silent moan and Harry snakes one hand to the crook of my neck and captures my lips once again, while the other clutches the fleshy fat of my bum causing me to jitter forward and rut my hips right across his thigh.
“Harry…” I moan loudly, finding a rhythm and hazily grinding down on his structured thigh. The feeling is incredible, the friction rubbing against my nub providing a perfect sensation that flows in the blood around my body and makes my toes curl. Coupled with Harry’s wet tongue and perfect fingers, I really can’t imagine how I managed to live without this stupidly idiotic but all the same amazing boy for so long.
“Harry!” I cry out as Harry stretches his lanky leg across the kitchen and rests his foot against the corner of an opposite counter. The new position allows Harry to bounce his leg and a sob escapes my lips as his muscular thigh greets me halfway and heightens the pleasure.
“Don’t stop, fuck Daddy! Don’t stop!”
“Fuck…” Harry grunts, swiping a hand across his face trying to fathom how he got so lucky. There’s too much for him to handle as his eyes jump from my jiggling breasts to my euphoric expression to my bare pussy jerking across his thigh. Worse yet, Harry’s internal struggle only grows worse as I finally tug him free of his boxers and wrap my petite hand around the base of his throbbing and rather sore looking cock.
“Daddy, you’re so worked up.” I tease, instantly dropping his cock and moving my hands to fondle his balls. Harry groans loudly, throwing his head back as he fights the urge to thrust into my hand.
“Don’t tease me, Y/N.” He warns dangerously but I giggle and rub the skin of his balls between my fingers anyway, deliberately ignoring his leaking cock. This time around, Harry physically can’t stop his hips from levitating and I bite back a triumphant grin because there’s no better feeling than having your boyfriend like putty in your hands.
“I’m not teasing Daddy, just having a little fun is all.” Sending him a confident wink, I pinch his sac and Harry almost sobs, the pressure almost too much, too perfect to handle. Quite frankly, Harry isn’t finding the situation as humorous as I do and so he grabs my hips dominantly and presses me down harshly on his thigh so that I’m practically scraping against his skin. A high pitched moan escapes my chest and a few tears find their way down my cheeks, the pleasure absolutely indescribable.
“Yeh speak to much, love. I think yeh need something to keep yeh quiet.” Harry says in a raspy, rushed breath. I watch as he whips his head around, egg yolk clumping his curls together so that they fall in front of his eyes. A thin layer of sweat has formed around our bodies like cling film so I swipe my forehead with the back of my hand, but leave Harry untouched; the perspirant only highlighting his naturally toned body and adding another element of rawness to the whole ordeal. Suddenly, Harry turns back around, the bowl of raw brownie mixture in his grasp.
Harry gradually submerges his middle and forefinger into the mixture, then raises his hand and beckons me forward. I obey without hesitation and open my mouth enthusiastically as Harry slips his two fingers in. Unfortunately, neither of us thought to taste test the mixture first and so within seconds of pushing his fingers into my mouth, I gag and spit them out trying with all my might not to dry wretch on him or myself.
“Shit Y/N, did a push yeh too far?” Harry rushes, an atmosphere of concern complimenting his words. God bless the poor lad; worry floods Harry’s face as he fears he may have been too forceful and noticing his guilt, I immediately rush to correct him, hoping he hasn’t already fallen into a turmoil of distress.
“No, no of course not.” I exclaim. “It’s just those brownies are going to taste like utter shit.”
I can’t help myself from letting a few chuckles loose and when Harry catches on, he too begins giggling (though there’s still a hint of nervousness in his voice, concerned still laced in his knitted eyebrows).
“Yeh okay then? A haven’t poisoned yeh have a?”
Shaking my head no, I tilt my head to the side and stare at Harry for a moment. Reaching up, I use my thumb to iron out the creases in his forehead and I place a kiss upon his lips.
“No Daddy, I’m perfect.”
At that, the mood certainly returns to its musky and lustful atmosphere and I grab Harry’s cock tightly - but not so tightly that it hurts him; just the right amount of pressure to keep him crazy. I begin moving my wrist, flexing my fingers around his cock and base trying to draw another whimper from him and I’m eventually rewarded when he cries my name.
“Shit, Y/N! Keep doing tha’!” He begs, his leg bouncing like crazy. This only spurs me on more, and I jerk him off lazily, both of us moaning and kissing each other in unison. Harry’s eyes are screwed tightly shut and he rocks his hips into my hand urgently, chasing his release with breathy grunts and moans. My chest tightens with pride as Harry’s fingers dig deeper into my skin and he begins shaking his head because he just can’t comprehend how good it feels. Sweat drips from his forehead and I use my hand to push back his falling curls to free his face. The expression he sports is one of pure bliss and I almost wish I could freeze time, just so that I could stare at him like this for however long I want. I realise though, Harry orgamsing is a better sight to see.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck me - are yeh close?” Harry struggles, the hope in his voice clear as day. Relief shines in his eyes as I nod excessively and he clenches his fingers around my hips even more.
Without warning, Harry’s fingers have suddenly slipped under me and he rubs my clit furiously, rolling the nub between his fingers. It’s more than enough to send me over the edge and I squeeze Harry’s cock as I slump heavily over his body, coming loudly. My final moan triggers Harry’s own orgasm and he thrusts into my hand one more time before long spurts of come are landing on my arm and belly, sticky and slightly warm.
After coming down from our highs, we take a moment to lie there together, limbs sloppily intertwined and damp skin sticking.
“I love yeh so fuckin’ much.” Harry whispers, carefully drawing his hand out from underneath me and using those exact fingers to free my eyes from stray strands of hair. He places a soft kiss on my lips, ever so gently caressing my jaw juxtaposing the animalistic and crazed lustful self he was only a minute ago.
“I love yo-” A shrill ring abruptly cuts me off as the oven timer sounds, alerting us the brownies are done. Harry jumps immediately, and lightly places me down on the island before hopping over to the oven and opening it. The metallic device produces a tin of sickly grey looking brownies and my face twists at the sight of disgusting lumps of butter swimming in the tin.
Although both our standards where low, the brownies end up succeeding our already awful expectations and land themselves the title of the worst brownies we have ever tasted. Harry sighs and I can tell he’s a little disappointed.
“Am sorry these are shit, Y/N.” He huffs, chucking the entire batch into the bin with a grimace displayed on his face.
“Harry, love, don’t be upset.” I coo, delicately cupping his chin with one hand and with a confident wink, I run my fingers through his drying come on my stomach and stick the digit into my mouth. “I much prefer tasting you anyway.”
Needless to say, those buggy brownies were soon all forgotten about.
* * *
PS. Let me know if you enjoyed and send in any requests!
I want Dean to get hurt on his hips and Cas like grab them to heal 'em and a cute little kiss happens.
Like, Dean has no idea what is happening, Cas is just hauling him in and if you ask him he’s so stunned by that he forgets he got lightly stabbed/bitten/whatever in the first place. All he sees is Cas’s face looming right up at him and some sort of crazy instinct takes over and he just kisses him right on the lips.
(It’s very tingly… Almost exactly the same sensation as being healed, come to think of it :P)
Cas is like… what. Cue usual Dean backing off embarrassed and stammering, and Cas catching up to current events and dragging him right back for another, less confusing kiss.
(Also very tingly, even though Dean isn’t being healed at the same time now.)
Let’s face it, for some of us the summer months are for nothing more than fruity drinks and lying on the beach. But for the rest of us, not much changes. Here are some tips for you to make the off-season more than just a time for tan lines.
~Keep a sleep schedule. It’s hard to keep going to bed at ten and getting up at six when you don’t have anywhere to be, so it’s a good thing you don’t have to! Even if your staying up until 4 and getting up at noon, keep it consistent. You’ll feel more energized by helping your body form a pattern (plus night swimming is more fun anyway).
~Keep using your bullet journal/planner. Even if your todo list consists only of getting your tan on and going out for yogurt with friends, keeping the habit will make it easier to transition back into school mode when fall rolls around.
~Stay on top of summer work. You don’t have to do the work as soon as you get it, but you should at least make a plan for how and when you’re going to get it done. If you do choose to finish it early in the summer it’s helpful to go back and look over it again, too. Make sure the content is fresh in your mind when your class starts.
~Have a summer project of some kind. Having a goal or project to complete just for you is a great way to fill your time. There’s nothing as satisfying as doing something just for you. There’s no one that should treat you more than you do. Treat yo self.
~Go outside. Despite what tumblr tells you, it is nice out there. Go on a hike with friends. Chill at the pool. Go to a farmer’s market. Take a road trip. The possibilities are endless! Just make sure to wear sunscreen and bring some water.
Most of summer productivity just comes right down to taking care of yourself. Summer is your time to chill; stay learning, but don’t work yourself too hard.
The wedding date, or; how to avoid the singles’ table
“I want- I needyoutobemyfakeboyfriend!”; “I have to admit, this isn’t the brightest idea you’ve ever had. Normally, when you don’t stand someone, they’re the last person you’d invite for this.” aka asking your coworker to a family’s wedding.
⚜ Chanyeol x reader ; office!au, friennemies, a tad bit of High school!au
⚜ 10,7k *sigh* did I just? yes, I just wrote my longest fic ever about this
⚜ Children, never sleep on your drafts for 6 months bc it’s hell :) I hope you enjoy reading~
The pile of work standing
on your desk earns a groan from you, your head pounding from the long evening
waiting for you.
Your eyes switch from
the article you’ve been trying to get done, to the clock that marks exactly
half an hour since the irritating disturbance had started. And from a scale of
one to ten of how murderous your thoughts are, you’re pretty sure you’re hovering
above an unhealthy fourteen.
You often wonder how
strangely things work out in life, astonished by how the universe likes to
carefully craft satirical situations to shake up the insignificant human
existence. However, you’re not exactly as amused -heck, you’re even sure the
deities love messing with you, trapping you in a tiny work space with your one
and only rival from high school.
Park Chanyeol, always
the charmer and still undoubtedly just as obnoxious as you remember him, just had
to end up in the cubicle right across from yours. And although you’ve had a much-appreciated
break from his gracing company during college, you’re still astounded at the
cruelty of fate to pair you up with him.
- Davey is a very tol boy so he has to curl up a bit so that the monsters can’t grab his feet hanging off the edge of the bed. He also had to share a bed with Les for a while so he has a habit of curling up into a tight fetal position while sleeping to make himself as small as possible to make more room for Les even though it gives him back pain. Jack tries to break that habit by hugging him from the front when they sleep together and forcing him to relax more but it backfires on him when he isn’t there with Davey and he scrunches up more out of reflex from the loss of mass
- Jack is like a starfish and sleeps spread-eagle on every surface that he happens to fall asleep on so have mercy on anybody who happens to have to share a bed with him under any circumstances. He’s also an obnoxiously loud snorer so the guys refuse to have a sleepover with him unless he falls asleep last which doesn’t exactly work out since the snoring wakes everyone else up except for him because Jack Kelly is the textbook definition of a heavy sleeper. Also has a cactus nightlight that Crutchie got him for his birthday 10 years ago and still keeps it well into adulthood although it barely works
- Crutchie has a weird habit of sleeping upside down so that his feet are at the bed’s headrest and his head are at the bottom edge. He has absolutely no idea how it happens but it does and Jack is very freaked out about how it happens. He and Race tried to set up a camera to see the science and solve the mystery of Crutchie Morris and the Upside Sleeping Position™ but Davey rolled his eyes like the mom he is and said that doing that it creepy as shit and forbid their experiment. Crutchie also sleeptalks quite frequently and since everyone tells him their secrets and feelings, Les has acquired a shit ton of dirt on everyone to blackmail them with since he unconciously spills a lot of tea while sleeping
- Spot is probably the most normal sleeper out of all of the guys: sleeps on one side every night, doesn’t snore too often but when he does it’s a tolerable amount, doesn’t twitch or sleeptalk or sleepwalk, medium sleeper so he’s gonna wake up if a robber’s in his house but not when the guys are whispering in the same room, ect. However, Spot does sleep with his mouth wide open like the shark from Jaws. He didn’t know that he does that until he caught Race and Albert seeing how many mini marshmallows they could fit into his mouth before he woke up. Spot slept with his mouth shut tight from then on
- Race moves way too much in his sleep. He’s one of those guys who always have bruises in the weirdest places that should have no reasonable way to get there onto his body but it’s actually because he keeps rolling around and constantly falls off of his bed or bumps into the wall that the bed is next to or he accidentally punches himself. Like Crutchie, he’s a sleeptalker but a lot more incoherent words come from his mouth but when they are coherent, he says the weirdest shit: “I have the mayonaise in the microwave cabinet” or “How many souls does it take for a cat to go to Disneyland on a water plane”
- Albert’s relatively normal except for the fact that he sleeps with his eyes half open and erratically twitches them (see this video at 0.53 for an example) which scares Romeo half to death so he refuses to be in the same room as Albert when he’s sleeping. Sometimes, his eyes are completely open which when paired with him sleeping on his stomach along with his tendency to sleep on the floor makes it look like someone murdered him and left his body lying on the ground. He sleepwalks, too, and has nearly walked off the balcony in his apartment before Race woke up and frantically and pulled him back inside. He has to lock all of the doors and now kitchen cabinets before they go to bed when he found Albert holding a knife with the twitchy eye thing. Many screams have been heard from their apartment.
For Keith lunch was over far too soon. The food was delicious as always and he enjoyed the relaxed chatter that came from Allura. If Keith had to be honest when he first joined he had been pretty scared of the tall woman. But after talking to her he found though she was scarily stubborn and driven, but she was also sweet and funny. Keith wished he could have feelings for her. That he could be attracted to the beautiful and amazing woman rather then being unable to tear his eyes away from Lance as he laughed. Being unbelievably jealous of Hunk who had Lance cuddling into his chest as he sat in his lap. Keith kept telling himself that gay was illegal and that even if Lance was a woman he was too young for him. Keith couldn’t infect a child with his sickness. Pining aside it was a loverly time. The sun was shining and the company was pleasant. Soon as Allura stood up and said it was time to leave Keith couldn’t help but feel disappointed. The fact that his butt was still sore from the ride really didn’t help.
“Look out!” Keith whipped his head round from where he was preparing Red when he saw Goldie free from her reigns and running directly towards Lance who didn’t seem to realise he was about to be trampled. Keith’s brain shut down and he went into autopilot as he pulled the knife from his belts holder and threw it at the ropes holding the barrels on the back of Blacks cart. The knife hit its mark, snapping the rope and causing the barrels to go rolling off directly into Goldies path. She bolted away finally coming to a stop a little away by the trees. Lance had jumped back away from the barrels his eyes wide and his chest rapidly raising and falling. For a moment no one moved. They all just stared in amazement and silent horror. Then Hunk ran towards Lance. “Are you ok?” He asked as he helped his best friend to his feet. That seemed to break everyone out of their trance and like a stampede they all moved as one. Some broke away to gather the barrels, some to get Goldie. It was Shiro, Pidge, Allura, Coran and Keith that ran to Hunk and Lance. “Lance! Are you alright?” Allura asked. Lance didn’t speak he merely nodded. “My boy are you sure?” Coran asked in concern. As the circus doctor Coran knew that it’s when they get quiet it’s when they should worry. Again Lance nodded. It was then that Keith realised he was staring right at him. Keith dropped his gaze to the ground, Great he had just traumatised the guy. “That shot was amazing.” “What shot?” Hunk asked, he had yet to remove his arms from around Lance as though he could protect him from all harm just by the power of his hugs. “Keith’s, he threw the knife.” Lance pointed at where the knife was still lodged in the cart. Realisation crossed their faces. “Keith… did you really throw this knife?” Shiro asked as he pulled the knife out. Keith nodded finding being the centre of attention was not all it was made out to be. Shiro exchanged a look with Allura and Keith was sure this was it. This was when he was going to be told to hit the road alone. “Keith.” He flinched as he watched a large smile spread across Allura’s face “guess we found your act!” “Wait what?” “I’ve never seen anyone throw so well! Not even Lance!” Hunk grinned. “Hey!” Lance pouted but was grinning too. “Seriously though, you sure are good with knives! In fact we should do an act together!” Keith felt all the blood drain from his face “t-together?” Lance nodded enthusiastically “yeah I’ve had this idea for years but no one to do it with.” Lance grabbed Keith hands “will you do it with me?” “God yes… I mean yeah sure I guess I can.” Lance suddenly wrapped his arms around him and Keith was sure his brain shut down with his last thought being about how good Lance smelt.
———————— “Ok just throw it at the targets!” Lance yelled. “I know!” Keith snapped. Soon as they had arrived and set up everyone had launched themselves into practising to prepare for the show that night. Lance had pulled Keith away to throw knives at a long and tall wooden board that when up fully almost reached the top of the tent. Across it in a long diagonal line we’re little red x’s designed to be targets for the knives. Lance had explained that the idea of the trick was that Keith would throw the knives to create a stair case that Lance would run up before he jumped from the last one onto the trapeze swing to be caught by Allura. However after nearly three hours Keith found himself exhausted and harder and harder to actually hit the targets. Thankfully Lance was working on his silk act close to the ground rarther then actually try and run up the badly formed stair case and risk getting stabbed. “Hey no need to get snippy.” Lance hugged as he held himself up purely by the strength of his legs. “I know… i know… look I’m sorry it’s just. It’s frustraighting ok? This is all so new to me and I hate that I can’t do it!” Keith sighed as he pulled at his hair. Lance chuckled “well yeah, what did you expect ? To be perfect at your first go? Putting an act together is hard back breaking work. When I first started I fell on my ass more times then I can count.” Keith smiled as he examined the knife he was holding “I know…” “You sure do say that a lot.” Lance teased as he flipped off the silk landing perfectly and putting his hands on his hips. “Shut up.” “No I sharnt” Lance gently poked him in the ribs. Seeing how Keith jumped and the look of terror a Cheshire Cat like grin spread across his face. “Oh, someone’s tickelish!” “Lance no!” “Lance yes!” Lance began tickling him mercilessly Keith falling back to the floor with the younger boy falling on top of him. They rolled around for a moment before Keith ended up on top looking down at the laughing Lance. They lay there for a moment breathing heavily. Slowly Lance stopped laughing as he looked up at Keith. He brushed his hand along his cheek and before Keith could stop himself he was leaning down gently pressing his lips against Lance’s. His lips tastes salty but were surprisingly soft. Keith vaguely registered that Lance was running his fingers through his black hair causing shivers to run down his spine. He wanted this. Oh God how he wanted this. 17. Oh God What was he doing. Keith suddenly pushed Lance away jumping to his feet. “What’s wrong?” Lance asked. “T-this isn’t right… this is illegal…” Lance snorted “so what?” “It’s wrong and disgusting!” Lance rose an eyebrow “you didn’t seem all that disgusted.” He nodded towards Keith’s crouch and he quickly covered his ‘situation’ with his hands. “W-well I’m not some boy whore for your fun! I’m not a disgusting prostitute with no self respect willing to throw himself at you!” A dark look spread across Lance’s face as he stood up and wiped his lips on his sleeve. “Fine if that’s how you feel. But you should know, prostitutes don’t always have a choice, sometimes it’s that or death. So maybe quit acting so high and mighty and stop pretending to be something your not.” Lance turned to leave the tent “I need to get ready for the show.” Keith wanted to yell at him. Ask him who he was to judge him or say that about prostitutes, that how the hell would he know. Then he remembered… If Pidge had come from the asylum, Hunk the gutter… Did that mean Lance had come from a brothel? Guilt stabbed at his gut. He had messed up big time. Keith promised he would make it right. He told himself it was because it was the right thing to do and not only because soon as he had pulled his lips away that it felt like he was missing something. He longed for Lance… If Lance made him feel this way then maybe… just maybe being gay wasn’t all that bad?
Anon said: “I thought of a Roomies thing that maybe plays into the direction of their storyline you might be headed in?? Y/n is having a rough night, and she doesn’t want to be alone with her thoughts, but on this particular night, Isaac isn’t home. After/while debating with herself over it she tentatively creeps across the loft to Derek’s room and peers in, before changing her mind at the last minute. As she goes to creep back to her room again, he’s like “what the hell is it you’re doing?” And-she’s caught in the headlights of Derek’s glowing alpha eyes. Basically, she ends up staying in Derek’s bed, and they predictably are awkward and funny but it’s ultimately sweet?? Idk, if it’s a bad idea don’t worry about it or anything haha ☺️x”
Anon said: “derek x reader based on bad liar by selena gomez pls?”
You tossed and turned, battling with the sheets just as much as you were your mind. They wrapped around you like a cocoon from the way you must have thrashed in your sleep, keeping you confined to the bed like restraints. Normally you wouldn’t have minded, waking up as a human burrito was actually quite calming, but the thoughts that came to mind every time you closed your eyes just made the safe swaddle feel like a strangling stronghold.
You chuckle at the thought. You could be quite poetic with the right amount of sleep deprivation.
You huffed, slapping a hand to your forehead. Of course tonight was the night Isaac was gone, out on some night patrol with Peter per request of Scott because of some tiny, but disturbing, series of events that had everyone in the pack on edge.
Water. A glass of the cold liquid would surely scare away the demons, right? After all, most of your thoughts consisted of flames and burning things, so water it was.
After fighting with the sheets wrapped around you for too long a time to be reasonable, you plopped to the floor with a soft thud, moaning gently before you rose to your feet, dragging them sleepily across the floor, not even putting in the effort to lift them even a little. This proved a bit harder to handle as you made your way across the concrete floors of the living room, proving to be a slick ice to your sock clad feet, and you floundered just a little before regaining your footing.